Happenings at Home
by JamesLuver
Summary: Anna and John enjoy their married life. Various scenarios prompted by various people on Tumblr.


**A/N:** Bite sized pieces of smut.

I chose to call it_ Happenings at Home_ because even if they aren't always making love in the cottage...home is where the heart is, right? ;)

**Disclaimer:** Anna and John would be having sex in every place known to man if _Downton Abbey_ was mine.

* * *

_Happenings at Home_

_Anon's prompt: Anna goes to his lordship's dressing room to say hello to John. It quickly spirals into more._

It was midday, and Anna had just changed Lady Mary for luncheon. The young woman had been in a surprisingly good mood, which was rare nowadays. Consequently, Anna's own spirits were buoyed in the hope that perhaps her mistress was – at last – beginning to build herself up again.

She took a detour towards his lordship's rooms on the way back down to the servants' hall, wondering if her husband had already gone down, or if he was still in with his lordship. As she approached the door, his lordship stepped out into the corridor, offering her a warm smile as he passed her. She waited for a moment until he'd turned the corner, before slipping inside the dressing room.

John looked up at once at the sound of her entrance, and she smiled at him.

"Hello," she said, moving forward to stand at the end of the bed.

John raised an eyebrow at her, but grinned too.

"Hello," he replied, straightening his lordship's cufflinks.

A few moments passed without either of them speaking again, so John turned back to his wife with a bemused look.

"As much as I adore your company, love," he said, "are you lingering here for any particular reason?"

"No," she chirped in reply. "I just wanted to say hello."

John shook his head, rolling his eyes in loving exasperation.

"I saw that," she said, prodding him in the arm.

John threw a quick glance over her shoulder. He could hear nothing outside in the corridor. Throwing caution to the wind, he bent in close and kissed her gently. Anna's eyes fell shut at once, and she brought a hand up to steady herself. He pulled away all too soon.

"There," he said with a smirk. "Now you're not seeing."

She opened her eyes to find his dark ones twinkling at her. Completely unbidden, she felt a frisson of heat low in her body. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. She caught the flicker in John's gaze.

"Actually," she said, "I've changed my mind."

"Changed your mind?" he said, tearing his eyes away from her lips with a seemingly large effort. "Changed your mind about what?"

"I actually have come here for something," she told him matter-of-factly, moving back towards the door. He watched, enraptured, as she peered out into the corridor, and then shut it with a decisive click.

"There," she breathed. "We won't be disturbed now."

"Anna –" he tried to say, but he was cut off almost immediately by the smell of her hair and the feel of her lips and her breasts crushing against his chest. He tried to protest, pushing at her hips, but he was lost when he felt the flick of her tongue against his teeth.

It didn't take him long to push up her dress and push down her undergarments. She had made quick work of his trousers, and he was soon touching her low, feeling her heated wetness against his fingertips, groaning at how quickly she responded to him. She kissed him hard and moved his wrist away, guiding him instead by his throbbing length to the place where he needed to be. He groaned in appreciation as she sheathed him inside, and he was soon moving frantically within her, worrying her chest as best he could within the confines of her dress, his fingers twisting through the sheets on Lord Grantham's bed. When Anna began to cry out alarmingly loudly, he quickly captured her mouth and drank up the sounds of her pleasure, working her steadily towards her end.

They'd forgotten all about turning up to the servants' luncheon.

* * *

_Anon's prompt: 1. Anna and John's wedding night. 2. John wakes Anna._

I.

Anna was surprised by how good she was feeling. She had heard so many horror stories about the wedding night, about husbands who didn't care enough for their virginal wives' feelings, of so much blood and pain that it would be a while before she'd want to experience it again.

But Anna was experiencing none of that and, quite frankly, she had never expected to. Not with Mr. Bates. _John_.

At the current time, her husband (the thought sent a thrill of excitement down her spine) was taking his utmost care in ensuring that her nipples were hard, rosy peaks, his tongue flicking over each one in turn. She writhed and moaned, tossing her head to the side as the pleasure exploded in her veins, and felt her stomach tighten when his lips curved in a smile over her breast. It didn't help that he'd decided to add his teeth to her pleasurable torture, grazing them softly over the hard nub. She wasn't even aware of his hand moving, so lost in her gratification, until she felt his fingers touch her low down experimentally. She keened loudly, her head flying back, her hands scrambling against the soft bed sheets. God, it all felt so _good_.

John seemed to know that, painstakingly returning to that spot within her over and over again, until she was almost sobbing, her hips moving clumsily against his hand, her core heating up unbearably. John bent his head to kiss her softly, then moved his lips to her ear, murmuring encouragements to her, telling her that she was beautiful like this, that he loved every inch of her, that she was _Mrs. Bates_, that she should let it come…

She did when she heard that hoarse growl rippling across her ear, her back arching unexpectedly, choking on her sounds of pleasure, the feelings overwhelming and more incredible than she could have dreamed. He held her in the aftermath, showering her face in gentle kisses, waiting for her to recover.

When she had, she guided him boldly between her thighs, letting him know that she was ready. He moved gently, more gently than she'd thought possible, and even though there was an instant of pain, it couldn't mar her joy in any way.

Because now she was Mrs. Bates in every sense of the word.

II.

John tried not to fidget, but it was proving difficult. He'd been lying here, watching his wife sleep, for the past three hours. She was glorious to watch – he would never get enough of drinking in her skin – but he was restless now. He had never been the sort of man who slept a lot. And while he certainly didn't begrudge Anna a moment of her precious sleep – she deserved it after so many sleepless nights – he couldn't help but wish that she'd wake too, to let him know that all of this hadn't been a dream.

As if reading his mind, she shifted. John held his breath, but she simply rolled onto her side to face him, hair deliciously dishevelled, eyes still firmly closed, breath blowing gently against his chin.

And, in that moment, he just couldn't resist her.

Reverently, his lips moved to her naked shoulders, kissing the skin there softly. He trailed kisses all the way along them, coming to a pause at her collarbone. He let his lips roam there too, his tongue slipping out to taste it, before running up the line of her throat.

She shifted again when he reached her chin, but he couldn't stop, not even when she grumbled and swiped at him blindly.

"Mr. Bates," she mumbled when he found the lobe of her ear, "I'm sleeping."

"I know you are," he muttered, moving to her cheek. "That's why I want to wake you up."

"I hope you realise that that's a very dangerous idea. I want to go back to sleep."

He captured her lips softly for a moment.

"I know of something that I can do to change your mind."

"Oh you do, do you?"

"Yes," he said, leaving one last kiss against her mouth. She shifted onto her back drowsily as he began to kiss his way down her body, making a beeline straight for her naked stomach. She moaned softly as she felt his teeth graze against her, and then her eyes shot open as his tongue quested out at the apex of her thighs.

Her husband was right. Her mind had certainly been changed on the matter of going back to sleep.

* * *

_a-rabbit-heated-girl's prompt: John mends something of Anna's, recalling how it got broken._

John smiled slightly to himself as he worked diligently, his fingers flowing quickly and expertly over the broken stem of the flower that had snapped cleanly from Anna's hat, straightening it as best he could. Taking his threaded needle in one hand, he carefully held the bottom of the flower against the rim of Anna's hat, frowning in concentration, barely breathing as he worked to keep it steady. He was glad that the servants' hall was empty, because he needed to focus. He couldn't have done that if any of the others were around – particularly Daisy. She was a lovely girl and John was very fond of her, but she liked to ask questions, her nature naturally inquisitive, and it would have put him off. If he was to make Anna's hat look good as new again, then he needed the silence.

It had been an accident, of course. Neither he nor his wife had expected her hat to become a casualty of their rather heated encounter out in the grounds, away from prying eyes. Initially, they had both agreed to wait until a cottage was found for them, when they could be together as husband and wife behind closed doors, but that had proven to be more difficult than they had first assumed. Although they had had wonderful self-restraint before they were married, taking care to never get carried away, they hadn't realised how much more difficult it would be now that they _were_ married and they _could_ touch each other whenever they like.

Needless to say, an innocent walk around the grounds had quickly spiralled into a fiery exchange down by the lake. They had been unable to stop themselves from scooting closer to each other, John enraptured by the unnecessary flick of Anna's tongue against her lips as she listened to him speak, Anna equally mesmerised by the way that her husband's eyes had darkened.

The kissing that had ensued had been inevitable.

And so had the natural course of events which had followed, with John pressing Anna down into the downy grass, his mouth hot on her body. In their haste to touch and taste, all promises of waiting until they were alone blissfully gone, they had failed to notice that Anna's hat had been knocked clean from her head. With her husband's hand working eagerly beneath her undergarments, Anna hadn't even registered the fact that she had been shifted up until the hat was squashed beneath the small of her back. And she certainly hadn't felt it when John had removed his fingers and filled her properly, his soft grunts and his exclamations of love only pushing her own desire higher.

In fact, neither of them had noticed that the hat was missing until they were ready to return to Downton. Only then had they found it, sad and forlorn, its pretty little flower, once so proud, barely hanging onto the edge of the hat, its spirit broken.

Anna had grumbled all the way back about her favourite hat being ruined. Thankfully, she had managed to slip inside without detection, avoiding any uncomfortable questions, and John had taken her hat along to the servants' hall when Lady Mary had rung for her.

The end of his task signalled the end of his ruminations. Biting at the cotton that he had used to stitch the bottom of the flower back to the material of the hat, he held it out in front of him triumphantly, inspecting his accomplishment. Now all he needed to do was stick the broken spine of the flower, and it was almost as good as new.

A clattering outside the servants' hall indicated the arrival of someone else, and he looked up in time to see his wife entering the hall. She beamed happily when she saw that he had her hat out in front of him.

"I fixed your bag," he shrugged. "I thought I could fix this."

"You've done a wonderful job with it," she told him, rounding the table to collapse at his side. She reached out and clasped her hand over his, on the pretence of scrutinising his work. "It looks perfect."

"What can I say?" he said with a cheeky grin, dropping the hat to catch her hand properly. "I'm a man of many talents."

* * *

_Anon's prompt: Anna and John share a bath in their cottage._

It made sense, Anna had said, for them to bath together. It would save them time and it would mean that one of them wouldn't have to bathe in the dirty water. It took long enough filling it and warming it in the first place, and they couldn't really afford to fill it again anyway. John had agreed purely because it was difficult to say no to his wife when she was pressed against him with nothing on.

Anna had delegated John with the job of getting water for the bath. She had monitored him from beside the fire in the sitting room, still completely naked. The sight had certainly spurred him on to work quicker, and soon the water had been simmering gently.

"There," Anna declared, testing the temperature. "It's perfect." Slowly, she stood up, unwinding her limbs gracefully, and John watched the curve of her spine with eagerness. Daintily, she stepped into the water, sighing softly as she settled herself down and stretched.

Entranced, John followed her, crouching down beside the tub despite the protest from his knee, dipping his hand into the water and splashing lazy palmfuls over her skin until she was glistening. She had tried to keep her hair in a tight bun, but little strands of it had fallen out, tickling her neck.

"You should be getting in here too," she told him after a few moments, letting her eyes half-lid promisingly. "I need to give your back a good scrub, after all."

"I'd be a fool not to take you up on that offer," John murmured, stripping himself down. Anna made room for him in the tub, laughing when he managed to slosh water over the edge, before she set upon him, even before he was fully settled.

"Hello," she purred, and he shivered at the feeling of her wet skin against his.

"Hello," he returned, deciding that resting his hands against her back was his safest bet.

She wasted no time in kissing him then, and he soon lost himself in her taste, his hands moving down to grasp ardently at the round skin of her backside beneath the water, allowing her tongue to plunder his mouth. Her hands were not idle on his body, combing through the wet hairs on his chest, leaving him for just a moment so that she could soap her hands. He watched, fascinated as she drew soapy circles around his nipples, before dipping lower. She held his gaze as she worked, her hands disappearing underneath the surface of the water –

He almost shot out of the bath when her fingers closed around him, and she tilted her head in question, grinning wickedly, as she slowly moved her hand.

"Problem, Mr. Bates?" she asked him.

He gritted his teeth, stifling a moan. "I thought you said that you were going to scrub my back?"

"And so I was. But then I felt as if I should give a bit more of you some attention." A moment's pause. "I think you like it."

He couldn't deny that. Anna shifted her head further down, keeping the rhythm of her hand steady, dipping her head to taste his nipples. Johan couldn't help groaning aloud at that, his fingernails digging deep into her buttocks. She continued on for a few minutes, experimenting with her teeth against his sensitive skin, just like she'd learned from him, and when he felt the warning pull in the pit of his stomach, he knew with clarity that he wouldn't be in any fit state to reciprocate.

"Stop, stop," he commanded, moving a hand to still her, and she looked up at him with a pout. He kissed it away, before trailing his spare hand over the skin of her thigh.

She mewled softly at the contact, and he took great delight in the way that she shifted her thighs further apart, opening herself more completely to his touch.

"Fair is fair, after all," he told her heatedly, letting his eyes rove over her shining skin. He held her steady with one hand at the small of her back, allowing his lips to count every rib as she started to rock against his fingers. He could feel the searing heat from between her thighs, an odd sensation with the water surrounding her, and took great delight in her every gasp. He gently lowered his head to her breasts to return her earlier actions, kissing her nipples softly, flicking his tongue against them, lapping at the droplets of water. Anna's fingers tightened on the rim of the bathtub. Her head tipped back as she arched.

"John, I need you," she whimpered.

Heat pooled in his veins, and he stilled the cadence of his fingers as she moved clumsily over him, sinking down on top of him. They sighed in mutual relief, resting their foreheads together. Anna set up a frantic pace against him, having already been so close earlier, and John took the opportunity to shower every inch of her face in kisses, gently moving one of his hands between them again so that he could seek out her swollen core. She cried out loudly when he found it, feeling the electricity sizzle through her veins. She could feel her end swelling irresistibly in her veins.

She was undone in the next moment, biting down on his lip to muffle her cries, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. He was following her a moment afterwards, hips pushing up against her, groaning in relief. Anna slumped against his body, and she rested her head against his wet chest, humming in contentment.

"I think bathing together is a very good idea," she murmured.

John was inclined to agree.

* * *

_Anon's prompt: Anna and John on the train to Scotland._

The countryside flashed by, a blur of greens. Anna sighed. As much as she was excited about visiting Scotland for the first time, she couldn't help but feel bored. That was the problem with long train journeys. There was nothing to _do_. Her eyes wandered around the carriage, coming to a rest on her husband. He was staring passed her, out of the same window that she had been perusing not so very long ago. His body was warm against hers, pressed snugly against her side. She hadn't said anything, but she was sure that he was sitting so close to her because Mr. Molesley was across from them. She wanted to roll her eyes in loving exasperation at him reminding the other valet of their status, but she couldn't help but grin, too. She loved it when he got jealous, even if it was of poor, old Mr. Molesley, who hadn't so much as looked her way since she'd announced her union with John. She sat with her fingers tangled with his in her lap, squeezing them gently.

Mr. Molesley had fallen asleep now. He was snoring quietly, his head tipped back against the seat. It had given Miss O'Brien plenty to grumble about, but she had been summoned away a few minutes before by her ladyship. So now Anna and John were alone. And Anna was bored because there was nothing to do.

Slowly, her eyes found her husband again.

Well…perhaps that wasn't _strictly_ true.

Turning her body with purpose, she reached out a hand to touch John's face. He started at once, looking down into her eyes.

"What's the matter, Anna?" he asked her.

She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Do you think you can keep quiet?"

John frowned. "Well, yes, I suppose I can…but why?"

She didn't answer him with words, but with the deliciously wicked grin on her face and the snaking of her hand down his front…

…Where it came to rest against the bulge in the front of his trousers. He yelped at once, jerking, and she shushed him.

"What are you _doing_?" he hissed, looking frantically across to Mr. Molesley to see if the noise had disturbed him. It hadn't.

"What does it look like?" she asked lightly, gently massaging her fingers over the warmth she found there, grinning triumphantly when she felt him stir beneath her fingertips.

His hand came down to close against her wrist, pulling her away. "Stop it, Anna. We can't. Not here. If Mr. Molesley wakes, or if Miss O'Brien comes back –"

"I'm going to have to be quick, then," she breathed, pushing his hand away and fumbling with the buttons on his trousers. He made several more half-hearted attempts to stop her, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to think with every pass of her fingers. She eased his trousers down a little when she could, slipping her hand inside his shorts, sighing in delight at the semi-hardness that greeted her fingers.

"What do we have here?" she asked him lazily, beginning to trail her fingernails against him, and he bucked his hips, swallowing hard to stop himself from moaning aloud. Anna was a minx. She knew exactly what to do to rouse him, and his fingers dug into the seat below him as she gently began to massage his tip.

All too soon, the familiar feeling of the end began to swell up inside him. He breathed harder through his nose, his eyes slamming closed, the muscles in his neck cording. The fire in his veins was overwhelming, arrowing out from his stomach to every inch of his body…

Anna smiled broadly when she felt the heat spurt out across her fingers, and felt immensely proud of herself when she heard the groan that her husband hadn't managed to keep in check. She found his gaze innocently, slowly withdrawing her hand.

"That was fun," she told him conversationally, casting a quick glance in Mr. Molesley's direction, before raising her hand impudently to her lips, her tongue darting out. John had to close his eyes quickly against the sight of her being so bold. The insides of his shorts were wet and uncomfortable.

Noticing this, Anna giggled. "I think you should go and clean yourself up a bit, Mr. Bates. Take your bag."

"I should fall out with you over this," he muttered, redoing his trousers, but he couldn't be angry with her. Not after that.

"But you won't. And I do hope you'll return the favour sometime," she said teasingly.

His eyes darkened as he looked at her. "Oh, believe me, nothing would give me greater pleasure."

She shivered in delight as he picked up his bag and, holding it strategically in front of him, made his way towards the carriage door. In the next instant, he was almost bowled over by Miss O'Brien.

"Watch where you're going," she grumbled at him, glaring at him in distaste, before pausing to scrutinise him suspiciously. John was suddenly aware of his blood-red cheeks and his overly bright eyes.

The other lady's maid narrowed her eyes at him. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "It's just a bit warm in here. I'm going for a walk."

Anna had to cough to mask her laughter.

* * *

_Anon's prompt: Anna and John's first night in their cottage._

That first night couldn't have been more perfect, even if they had tried to make it so. Walking through those doors for the first time, both of them had been overwhelmed by the sheer realisation that this was it, that this place was _theirs_ and theirs alone, a place where they could return every night together, shutting out the world with the click of the latch. It was their world to dream whatever dreams that they wanted, to do whatever they wanted to do.

Dinner had passed in a blur, Anna quickly adjusting to having her very own kitchen, smiling happily as John set the table and occasionally sidled up behind her to steal a kiss. The natural pattern they had settled into in such a short space of time was incredible, and Anna had vowed to never take any of it for granted, but to simply relish each and every moment that they could spend together. She knew that John felt the same.

She'd kept dinner simple, not confident enough in her own rusty cooking abilities to try anything too adventurous, but John had declared it was the best meal that he had ever tasted, simply because she'd been the one to cook it. She'd rolled her eyes at his silliness, but she'd glowed internally anyway.

The rest of the evening had passed just as quickly. John and Anna had settled themselves into the broken sofa, giggling at the reminder of the antics that had broken it in the first place. Anna had snuggled herself under her husband's arm, resting her head on his chest, simply listening to the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear. She must have dozed at one point, safe in her husband's strong embrace, because John had gently roused her and eased her up the stairs when the hour had grown late.

In their bedroom, Anna had found that she wasn't tired anymore. Her heart had pounded fast. She had allowed John to start undressing her, her fingers fumbling over his own clothes. They had tumbled into bed together, growing used to the feel of the foreign sheets against their naked skin, the plumpness of the pillows behind Anna's head. John had spent what seemed like hours exploring every inch of her body, sucking at her fingertips, kissing her toes, touching her over and over again until she'd been begging and pleading and sobbing that she needed him.

The feeling of completeness that had shot through every pore of her body when John had slipped inside had been almost overwhelming. She'd raked her nails down his back, scouring the skin gently as he'd rocked inside her. He'd whispered to her intimately every single moment, dipping to kiss at her breasts and her collarbone and her cheeks, telling her that she felt wonderful, that he loved her so much, that she was his light. When the end had taken her, she had arched into him and cried out, shuddering uncontrollably in his arms, sweat drenching her skin, and he had held her close as she shivered in the aftermath, kissing her ear and whispering promises of forever to her, twining their fingers together. He had slept with his chest pressed firmly against her back, his hands holding hers against her stomach, and Anna had sleepily decided that this was most definitely home.

It had been a most wonderful night indeed.

* * *

_Anon's prompt: Anna and John sit by the fire. John gets cheeky._

They lay together in front of the fireplace, dressed for bed. John's back was propped up against the broken settee that they had still not found the time to replace. His bad leg was stretched out in front of him. Anna sat between his thighs, her head lolled back against his chest, her eyes half-lidded as she watched the flames flickering in the grate. She and John hadn't had much time to themselves over the last few days – the house had been a flutter of activity with some old friends of Lord Grantham descending upon the house – so now she was going to make the most of it. One of his hands was spanned protectively across her flat stomach, holding her close against him. His spare hand was busy stroking its way through the long locks of golden hair that tumbled down around her shoulders. Anna sighed, bringing up one of her hands to stroke softly against the back of his fingers, shivering slightly when he rubbed his own over her stomach. His breath was warm on the back of her neck. Occasionally he would drop his lips there, caressing the soft skin.

"Does that feel good, Anna?" he asked her quietly at last, letting his hand still in its meandering through her hair.

"It did feel good, until you stopped," she told him, settling herself more firmly against him. "A girl could get used to being treated like this, Mr. Bates."

"Then she should get used to it," he murmured, flicking his tongue against the bone in the back of her neck. His hand drifted from her stomach to caress gently at her thigh. She sighed again, tilting her head to the side to give him better access to her. He took the invitation, kissing against the pulse he found in her neck, letting his hand creep lower.

"Does it feel good?" he asked her again.

"Yes," she exhaled.

His mouth moved to pull her nightgown away from her shoulder, his lips ravishing the skin that was revealed to him. She gasped a little. Her shoulders, as he had discovered, were very sensitive to the touch. The hand on her thigh began to bunch up her nightgown, his fingers grazing against her skin. She shivered.

"Feel good?" he repeated, biting down gently against her skin.

She arched her back, unable to stop herself from moaning. He took it as the affirmative. His hand crept lower, dancing beneath the waistband of her undergarments, until he was covering her. His fingers quested further in.

"Does it feel good there?" he asked her earnestly, fluttering his fingers against the nub that always proved to be her undoing.

"_Yes!"_ she groaned, arching himself into his hand. His spare hand, idle until now, crept under her nightgown and quested in the opposite direction, finding a nipple and caressing it with feather-light touches. He fixed his mouth to the back of her neck again, his hands moving in tandem across her body, feeling her muscles go taut as she gasped.

Anna could feel her core heating and, in the next instant, she was crying out incoherently, letting herself collapse back against her husband's body. She was surprised to find him still utterly calm and collected, even if she could feel him digging into her back. Slowly, she turned around in his arms. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"You should get used to it," he said again. "Because I don't mind making _that_ a regular occurrence."

* * *

_Anon's prompt: John can't contain his excitement when he sees Anna fresh from her bath._

John sighed as he lay in bed, face turned to the ceiling. When Anna had said that she was going for a bath, he hadn't expected to still be waiting for her a whole hour later. He had entertained himself at first with the thoughts of water running down her body, but that had only made him twinge warningly, so he'd quickly stopped that. Instead, he'd tried to distract himself by reading, although he hadn't really taken any of it in.

He heard the squeak of the bathroom door out in the little corridor, and he pulled himself up into a sitting position, turning to the door expectantly. He heard his wife's soft tread against the floorboards. He smiled in anticipation. The door opened slowly.

The sight took his breath away.

Anna, wrapped in a towel. Anna, with her hair damp and tangled. Anna, with her skin still sheening with droplets of water.

John was suddenly aware that a certain part of his anatomy was paying rapt attention to the sight.

"I'm sorry," Anna said, bending down as she retrieved her nightgown from the corner. "I forgot this."

John was given a most delicious view of his wife's glistening backside as the towel rode up unconsciously. He choked back a groan with great difficulty. He needed to get his hands on her.

"It's perfectly all right," he murmured instead. Anna was certainly not uncomfortable with him seeing her naked – they'd been living in their cottage long enough for her to be completely at ease with him – and it made him smirk to see her acting so proper, with the towel preserving her modesty. He'd learned from experience that she was anything but.

"I don't know what made me forget," she continued, straightening up.

"It's not the end of the world." This time, the huskiness in his tone couldn't be denied.

Anna shot him a look. "What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

She continued to stare at him for a few moments longer before she gave up with a sigh, beginning to rub herself dry. John's breath caught in his throat again. Good God, she had to know what she was doing. Slowly, he slid himself out of bed. His bottoms were tight. He wasn't even sure why he'd put them on in the first place – he and Anna were still in that delicious period when every moment alone meant that they spent it making love – and now he was regretting it more than ever for the way that it constricted him. It would be almost painful to move.

His feet still moved forward quickly when he realised that she was undoing the towel. Christ, all of that wet, lithe skin would be on show. And, more than ever, he wanted to see it sprawled out across their bed.

Anna was surprised when she felt the towel being taken roughly into his hands. Startled, she turned to face him.

"What –" she started to say, but she was cut off by the crash of his mouth against hers. She hardly had time to register the brief hardness against her hip before she was being lowered onto her back, a hand already snaking down her body to rest between her legs.

"Allow me to dry you off," he said, giving her a lecherous smile.

"I'm not sure that _that's_ the way to dry me off," she managed to say through a moan, and his blood heated at the implication of her words, rocketing further as she opened her legs wide, giving him better access. Bending in to kiss her, he hitched her leg up over his hip, and she made quick work of his bottoms as he continued to caress her. When he felt her spine ripple, he knew that she was ready, and he pushed himself inside her, making them both groan in utter contentment.

* * *

Later, when they were lying together, panting hard, John rolled onto his side to face her with a grin.

"There we are," he said cheekily, running a hand down her side, "you're all dry now."

"Perhaps we should dry off like this every time," she said devilishly, and squealed when he rolled back on top of her.

"Perhaps we should," he growled, seizing her mouth in a kiss.

* * *

**A/N:** There are a few slightly longer pieces of smut coming soon.


End file.
